The Perception
by doxthextimexwarp
Summary: Sometimes it's not what we see, but what we don't want to. An Eli/Clare novel.
1. Prologue

**So I'm nervous to begin writing again after finishing Goodbye, My Lover. I wonder if I could ever again achieve such a wonder as that ever again. After numerous failed beginnings, I just told myself to go for it. Once more, I hope to enchant you with another story about my favorite Degrassi characters. Thanks so much for choosing to read this. I hope it proves worthy in your eyes.**

**So with that thought, I humbly present you...**

**The Perception**

**Prologue.**

The page is still blank.

It has been two hours since Clare sat down at her desk and her black pall point pen has yet to touch the red lined sheets. The fingers of her left hand tap impatiently; they want to be matched in fervor by their twin in movement. But alas, her right hand is still.

Her mind is silent. Or maybe it's just moving too fast for Clare to be able to recognize everything. All the intricacies of her memories and wishes threading together like a patchwork quilt meant to wrap her in comfort. But this wasn't a quilt of a comfort. This was a noose created by different strings of intertwined by a common word.

_Clare..._

Her past shouldn't be this- this creeping feeling of fingers reaching toward her throat as she feels a tightening in her stomach.

_Shhh...Clare, just breathe. _

But she doesn't want to. Because breathing is just one step closer to living. One step closer to feeling. And she's not ready to awaken those emotions from their depths where she's so neatly buried them in little graves inside her heart and mind.

She gets up out of the wooden chair and heads to her bed. Pulling off the two large comforters to keep her warm during these winter months, she finally reaches the rough white sheets. She pulls those back and brings her body up into the bed. Her white socks slide down underneath followed by her jean-clad legs. And then she pulls the sheets and the two comforters back over her all the way.

Her whole body is covered underneath the layers. It's comforting to be buried underneath the heat.

_Her back shivers in sweet anticipation. Her eyes are closed leaving her senses more alive than ever. _

_A single finger makes contact with her shoulder and slowly traces its curve. A second finger is added as that same finger travels to her shoulder blade. And then a third finger joins as they glide up her spine. They break contact from her just for a second to brush away a few curls that have settled on her right shoulder. The cool electricity emitting from the touch keeps the static thrill alive on her left shoulder as a pair of lips tenderly kiss the curve between her neck and right shoulder. _

_A breath escapes from her that she didn't know she'd been holding._

A small smile begins to form in the corner of Clare's pink lips. Her right hand reaches to touch it; to prove its existence.

But then just like that, the tide turns and the world spins and her mind won't quit.

_A thick thumb is forced against her lips, clenching them together with brute force. _

_She closes her eyes and wills the world to turn dark._

It's already dark underneath the covers, but she snaps her eyes shut. Her own private darkness.

_She sees nothing but she feels everything._

She covers her mouth with her hand to muffle the sound.

_Shh...Clare, just breathe._

_Just breathe._

And she does what she's told.

_This will be our little secret._

And so she keeps quiet.

**Please Review. All comments, thoughts, and judgements during this early stage is greatly appreciated. And as always, feel free to check out my other work. I'm sure you'll find something that will delight you.**


	2. Chapter 1

**The Perception**

**Chapter One**

"And do you know why you did those things to yourself?"

Clare glances up from staring at her white sneakers. She could barely tell they'd been worn for three months now; they were nearly spotless. She traces a finger across her collarbone and lightly bites her bottom lip. She makes eye contact with the woman in the white jacket, but then breaks it off quickly to look outside the window.

_She looks out the window of the hearse. It's dark out. So much so that she can barely make out the difference between branch and sky. But she knows there's a difference, and she can lightly see it when she turns her head just so. _

_She takes a deep breath and a white mist settles into the air as she releases it._

She gives a slow nod.

No.

And with that the woman gives out her own deep sigh of frustration. She threads her fingers through her straight blonde hair tangled with a few grey strands. "You do realize that the first step to recovery is admitting you have a problem, right?"

Clare doesn't answer. Instead she releases her bottom lip from her hold and brings her icy blue eyes to look again upon the woman. She's met by dark brown eyes that gaze at her roughly, attempting to somehow force a word out of her.

Clare taps her wrist twice.

With another deep sigh, the woman replies to Clare's request. "Yes, Clare, I assume this is as far as we'll get today."

_When she wakes up that morning, she knows something's off. _

_She scans around the room quickly. The pictures are still there perfectly aligned on the walls. There isn't a single black frame that's out of place. All the flowers in their vases are still fresh, colorful- alive. The grandfather clock in the front hallway chimes seven slow times. _

_She reaches for her throat and then works her way down. Blue plaid shirt. Brown braided belt. Blue jeans. _

_She gets up and the world spins._

Clare quickly got out of the brown leather chair and makes her way to the door. Twisting the gold handle quickly, she's met by another woman on the other side. "Clare," the old woman says with a kind smile. She reaches to put an arm around the girl. Her hand stops on her shoulder as she questions her with a kind smile, "Any progress today?"

She gives a small polished smile up at the old woman. "No, Jan, not today. Maybe tomorrow."

It's routine now. She's always met by the same old woman and every day the same old woman asks her the same old question. And every day Clare offers her the same old answer. And then they're simply silent.

But not today. Because today Jan must have decided that she's going to get this relationship with Clare to work because she attempts to buddy up to the girl by spilling gossip. "So..." Jan begins in an excited whisper. "I hear that we might be getting a new guest soon."

"Oh, really?" replies Clare blandly. She knows its rude to reply in such a manner, especially since she knows that Jan has sweet intentions. But alas, she just wanted to go hide underneath the covers for a few hours until dinner.

"Yep. A boy to decrease the large ratio of boy to girl. I think it will be nice having another man here. It will give us girls something to chat about, you know," she gives a kind wink in Clare's direction. "From what I've heard, he seems nice enough."

"They all do, Jan."

"Excuse me, dear?"

Clare turns up to Jan with wide eyes, covering her words. "I didn't say anything."

_It's that moment between dream and awake that she feels a muscular arm drape across her stomach and pull her in close. It's the warm breath on her neck that wakes her up with a flutter of her eyelashes. _

_She doesn't say anything, but waits for his next move._

They return to silence as they continue walking toward Clare's room. Jan turns the gold knob to the wooden door and opens it wide for Clare's entrance. She continues to stand there as Clare passes through, kicking off her shoes and heading straight towards the covers.

And like tradition, once Clare is buried underneath as if laying under a bed of sand with only her head poking out, Jan sweetly calls out to her, "See you in a few hours." And closes the door.

_She wakes up and she's all alone. She shifts around and she doesn't see anyone._

She pulls the covers over her head and the she can barely see the outline of her fingers that she lay to rest in front of her.

_The sheets feel cool against her burning skin. A soothing sensation to calm down her pounding heart._

She closes her eyes and takes a calming breath. In for two, out for two. In for two, out for two.

_She tries to focus on something else. Anything else._

In for two, out for two. In for two, out for two.

_She starts counting. 1. 2. 3. 4. 5-_

In for two, out for two. In for two, out for two.

_She reaches up to 77 and that's when it all starts getting hazy. She reaches a hand up to her forehead but can't. _

_She can't steady her mind._

In for two, out for two. In for two, out for two.

_As hard as she tries, she can't grasp control of herself. _

_She isn't in control of herself._

In for one. In for one. Out. In for one. Out. In for two, out for one. In for one. Out. Out.

_Shh...Clare, just breathe._

She shudders and catches air in her chest.

_She's lost control._

_She's lost control._

She knows that the first step to recovery is admitting what happened. And admitting it to someone. But she knows that by doing so, that would mean making the past part of her shared consciousness in the realm of the present-

And she isn't sure if she's ready for that just yet.

**End of Chapter One.**

**As always, Please Review! All comments/suggestions/thoughts/criticisms are greatly appreciated. Thanks for reading.**


	3. Chapter 2

_Thank you for the lovely reviews! They truly mean a lot. I'm glad I captured your attention- I want you to feel, too. So I hope this chapter further encourages your imagination. _

**The Perception**

**Chapter Two**

Dinner was uneventful. Female-only group talk was the same as always (a fellow girl would finally crack and spill her guts out as the rest just sat nodding, attempting to show sympathy). Outside activity was the same routine, too (one could either walk around the track, play basketball with the few guys who were there, or just sit at the picnic benches and wait until "TIME!" was called).

And then the whole thing was repeated. This time dinner would be replaced with breakfast or lunch. Some girl would spill her life story and the woman in white would smile, "Wonderful! We're making progress!" Perhaps if it were raining they would play kid-friendly board games in the cafeteria.

Of course, there would be the meetings with the woman in white every few days for a long session.

"Clare, any day now."

"Thanks for the update, Mrs. Westbrook."

"You know you can't live unless you move forward from whatever it is that happened, Clare. You know that-"

"Mrs. Westbrook, I don't mean to be rude, but that's the point. I don't want to live anymore."

"And why is that?"

_Silence. She can hear his deep breathing and feel it as a warm breath hits the back of her neck. It's in a perfect steady rhythm; it's comforting. _

_They're on the cusp of entering daylight. She can make out the outlines of his fingers on her stomach, his arm around her waist. She reaches a hand down and gently, methodically rubs her pointer finger back and forth across his skin. _

A week or so had passed since Clare had let that one detail slip from her lips. Since then she'd remained dead quiet as ever, much to the mounting frustration of Mrs. Westbrook.

And because of that, Clare was in for a surprise.

Walking down the hallway with Jan that morning, she noticed the gray clouds through the glass windows. Slowly they came rolling in, sucking in the sun to its choking death.

It was late winter and the air was still and cold to the bone. She crossed her chunky black sweater-clad arms over her chest. Her blue jeans a little too long on her as they just barely scraped along the pristine white tile floor. And her always clean white tennis shoes (no laces, just slip-on) keeping her footsteps quiet.

She could hear Jan's off-rhythm breathing, but quickly assumed it was related to old age.

So when Jan opened the door for her with a large, forced smile, Clare hadn't thought anything of it.

And when Jan gave her a shove that was a little more deliberate than gentle, she didn't suspect anything either.

_She felt a hand on her shoulder. A strong one, thick and worn from work and age. The fingers clamped down like a crab to its victim on the shore of the beach, ready to drown and choke and kill._

Clare walked in and sat down at her usual large leather chair right in front of Mrs. Westbrook's large oak desk. She noticed the new thick yellow legal pad that had been brought out and laid on the desk; it was marking a special occasion.

She looked at Mrs. Westbrook with a blank stare, hiding her calculations. The white lab jacket was the same. Her red finger nails wrapped together and holding up her chin was the same pose she always had. And regardless of how frustrated she knew the woman was with her, Mrs. Westbrook still had a kind smile to begin each session.

_Every time she saw him, her face flushed with that same pure blush and her lips parted in a light grin._

"Clare," Mrs. Westbrook began. Clare gave a small nod in response, her face neutral. "Today we're going to do something different."

Clare's head lightly fell to an angle as she pondered her words.

"Clare," she began after a moments pause, her words straightforward, clear, and honest. "I want to help you, I really do. And since you refuse to talk yourself, I thought it best to bring in someone close to you to give you that necessary push towards recovery…" She took note of Clare's expression. She had become intrigued. "This is the first person I naturally thought who could lead us in the right direction. So if you'll give it a chance-"

_Every time she saw him, her smile turned downwards slightly and she would become preoccupied with gazing at the floor. _

But when she saw Helen Edwards, divorced mother of two psycho daughters, enter the office on the arm of Jan, her features froze, her mind went blank, and her fingers shook underneath the black coverings.

"Oh, Clare! My baby! How are you?" she rushed from the entrance and engulfed her youngest daughter in a spine-crushing hug. "Oh, my baby! I've missed you so much! Three months is way too long!"

Clare's mouth went dry as her cheek was pressed tightly to Helen's. In a whispering croak, she verbally accepted her presence. "Good to see you, Mom."

It had been a while.

To say the least.

_Her mother drove her back to the house. The drive was silent (well, silent on Clare's part. Her mother was humming one of last weekend's church hymns). Her head was deep in thought, a quickening flurry of decisions. Choices. Time to choose._

_"Perhaps I can go inside for a few moments?"_

_This was her chance._

_"No, I'm fine, Mom. I really just want to get in the shower."_

_She was dirty after all._

**END of Chapter Two.**

_Please Review! They mean everything to me- my ongoing inspiration. So, please, any thoughts, please write._


	4. Chapter 3

_Here's the latest chapter. Hope you enjoy! Please Review! I enjoy all of your words!_

**The Perception**

**Chapter 3 **

Three months, 2 weeks, 4 days. That's the last time Clare saw her mother. Or anyone in her family, for that matter.

"_Oh, my baby! Clare!" Helen grabbed her youngest daughter around the chest and engulfed her tight. Clare swallowed, forcing more guilt and tears down her throat. _

_Another pair of thin arms wove around Clare at that moment. A warm breath hit against her cheek, "I'm going to miss you, Clare." _

"So, Mrs. Edwards-"

"I'm sorry, Dr. Westbrook, " Helen corrected her quickly. "It's just Ms. Edwards now."

"Oh," Dr. Westbrook replied with a slight shock. She quickly opened the manila folder to the right of her and scanned through the top sheet. "When did this happen, Ms. Edwards?" Grabbing a pen, she moved her right hand over the yellow pad to prepare herself.

Clare, meanwhile, had prepared herself by counting once more.

_24. 25. 26. 27. 28. _

_She hears a crash of broken mirror as it hits the floor. _

"Well," Ms. Edward's replies thoughtfully, "we really began separating during Clare's sophomore year of high school…That would be just over a year ago, right sweetie?" She looks over at Clare and puts a worn hand on her daughter's arm comfortingly. "But it wasn't official until about three/four months ago."

"Huh, I see," replies Dr. Westbrook as she hastily scribbles a note on her legal pad. "And how has the end of your marriage changed your home life?"

"Well," Ms. Edwards puts a soft hand against her cheek as she looks over at her daughter who has now taken this time to focus intently on the lines of her palms. "Very much so."

"Could you elaborate?"

"Well…my oldest daughter, Clare's sister, Darcy, came back this past summer for good. She was previously in Africa for a long time doing charity work- she couldn't figure out what to do with her life. But once she heard that Randall and I weren't doing well and were getting a divorce, she came straight home." She paused as a smile began to form on her lips after quick thought, "That's my Darcy, always putting family first."

"And how did that impact Clare's life?"

_Clare wrapped her arms around the girl who just spoke to her. "I'm going to miss you, too, Darcy. You'll come see me, right?"_

"_Promise."_

"Positively. Darcy went to university and had a dorm on campus. She'd visit with Clare often; they would go on shopping trips every so often together. They were best friends, sisters-"

"Clare," Dr. Westbrook took this time to direct the attention away from Ms. Edwards to look at her patient, still utterly deep in thoughts she had yet to know. "Perhaps you'd like to say something?"

Clare looked up at the woman. Her exterior was calm and complacent, but she could feel some awful rock in her stomach swelling and pulling her down. Her hands grew hot. "She hasn't visited me yet. Why hasn't she visited me yet?" she asked quietly, head slightly turned to catch her mother's reaction.

"Darcy? Oh, dear, she's been busy, you see-"

"And how does that make you feel, Clare?" Dr. Westbrook inquired quickly.

Clare gave a silent pause as she put a finger on her lips to silence herself. She looked at her mother and then back at Dr. Westbrook. "Alone. I really wanted to see her."

_That first night Darcy came back from Kenya, like for awesomely amazing good, Clare found herself just one-on-one with her older sister._

_Her parents were in the kitchen, quietly whispering. They weren't arguing as much, now that the divorce was inevitable and occurring (they knew they had to put up with each other for only a short time still). _

_So there they were, just the two of them like old times (except, Clare wasn't stuck in her school girl uniform and Darcy didn't have the phone glued to her ear). Wrapped up in blankets, sitting next to each other with backs against the headboard and feet touching just barely, they spoke quietly so as to not draw attention to themselves._

_This was secret sister time afterall._

"_So, tell me about Degrassi, Clare. Spill!" Darcy exclaimed excitedly._

"_Well," she began hesitantly. There was so much to say- where to start? I'm still best friends with Alli, you'll see her again, I'm sure, sometime this summer. I'm at the top of my class, well, Junior class, and-"_

"_Clare! Please don't drone on to me about your educational life. I want to hear about your love interests!" Darcy sighed dramatically._

"_Oh, well, I met this boy…"_

"Like I said Clare, Darcy's busy. Just because you put your education on hold doesn't mean that she had to, too." Ms. Edwards sighed quickly, pulling a strand of straight brown hair away from her forehead. "Are there any other particular questions you needed to ask me? Or is this session over?" She shifted in her seat and re-crossed her legs.

Dr. Westbrook stared at Clare who made no movement to speak. Her patient quickly blinked twice and whatever liquid that had been gathering on her eyes hurriedly disappeared.

"Yes, Ms. Edwards, just one more." She dropped her pen on the legal pad and crossed her hands underneath her chin. She shot a sharp glance at Clare and then turned her full attention to Ms. Edwards. "You say that Darcy and Clare were close, is there any other relevant information you think you could give me to further reach a deeper understanding with Clare?"

_"A boy! My little Clare...So what's he like? Okay, okay, what does he look like?"_

_Clare smiled softly, her eyes now focusing on her bare fingers. "He's purely wonderful."_

Ms. Edwards put a finger to her cheek and turned her head to the side in consideration. "Well, Darcy tried to kill herself too, at one point. Is that relevant?"

**END of Chapter 3. **

_Review! Check out my other work if you haven't already; I'm sure you'll find something you like. Enjoy! Thanks for all of your reviews! _


	5. Chapter 4

_I know it has been an awfully long time. I've been dealing with a lot of personal issues; and because of that, I haven't been in the mood to write. These next few chapters might read forcefully, rather than as if they should just flow off the page as reality for you, because I'm attempting to return to that passion I felt when writing. I've lost the ability to speak and write who I am. And I hope you'll be there until the end with me as I try to revive that. _

_With much appreciation towards you, I give you the latest chapter. _

**The Perception **

**Chapter 4**

Dr. Westbrook tilted her head critically towards Ms. Edwards. "Well," she began sharply, "that would be quite relevant."

Clare heard a deep gulp next to her.

"Dr. Westbrook, I don't believe this has anything to do with Clare, though. Darcy was troubled; she had reason-"

"And you believe I don't," Clare interjected quietly.

"I didn't say that, Clare-"

"But you meant it." Clare felt a fresh sting at her eyes and rubbed it away.

_"If you scream or yell, that's it." He made a grab towards Clare's jean jacket. But she turned against the wall and let out a scream in fright as his hand instead grabbed her arm. _

_Twist. A hand to mouth. Shut eyes._

_"I told you."_

"Listen, Clare-"

_"I'll always be here," he said softly. He brushed a strand of hair out off of her cheek and smiled. _

"Ms. Edwards-"

_She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She was content, in a wave of pure bliss. She could feel him. He was there. _

"I believe it would be best if we ended today's session. I'll let you know when we can continue. But now-"

_She woke up cold. _

Ms. Edwards got up in a huff with only a nod towards her daughter, still stuck with her eyes on the floor. With a slam of the door, Clare flinched.

Dr. Westbrook stood up, and in one fluid motion took the chair right next to Clare where her mother had been. She put her hand tenderly on the girl's knee. "Clare?" she asked quietly, no more than a whisper. "Talk to me."

_Shhh...Clare..._

There are no sounds, but she can hear the world screaming.

"Clare?"

She stands up abruptly. "I have to write-"

"Here," Dr. Westbrook lightly grabs the girls wrist and brings her to her desk. She rips off a few clean sheets from her legal pad and hands them and a black pen to Clare. She guides Clare into the desk chair and watches over her intently. "Write to me."

Clare bites her lip as she looks at the paper expectantly.

There are perfect lines stretched across the yellow paper. She grabbed the pen shakily in her right hand and prepared to write in between the spaces.

_"Clare, you are probably the best writer in our whole class- no, our whole school! Why can't you just right about this one thing now? Are you afraid you'll fail?"_

_She paused, contemplative. "Eli, it's not about failing. It's the fact that I'm afraid of letting it go."_

_"Letting what go?"_

The page is still blank and her throat is closing up with anticipation.

_She bites her lip quickly and then releases it. "It's the fact that if I say it, I can never revoke it. Not that I would want to revoke it, but once it's out, it's out. And it would be such a terrible thing to let loose if it can't be returned..."_

She feels a hand on her shoulder and it's warm.

_"When I feel like my nerves are at battle and I can't breathe, my therapist told me to count. It's soothing, actually, being someone who focuses so much on words. That I have to concentrate on something else that doesn't flow out naturally as language does for me. It's foreign. I count backwards, forwards, and in multiples. It's my comfort when you're not around." _

"Clare, when you're ready."

_Just breathe._

She moves the pen to the paper and drags it down. Once more, but with a curve to the right and a thick bottom horizontal line. Then again, starting from the top but now with two curves to the right. She picks up speed and writes.

She writes.

_1. 2. 3. 4. _

_I declare there's something more. _

_5. 6. 7. 8._

_There's so much tragedy, I guess it's fate. _

_9. 10. 11. 12. _

_These feelings are meant to be locked and shelved. _

_13. 14. 15. 16. _

_There are so many secrets left unseen. _

_17. 18. 19. 20._

_How many? Oh, why there are plenty._

_21. 22. 23. 24._

_This fight's too viscous, an internal war. _

_25. 26. 27. 28. _

_The heart swells and the defences deflate. _

_29. 30. 31. 32. _

_There were hopes but the strands are now broken and few. _

_33. 34. 35. 36. _

_It seems as though this girl isn't an easy fix. _

_37. 38. 39. 40. _

_So seal the box and hide the key._

_41. 42. 43. 44._

_We'll act as if she's gone and lived no more._

_45. 46. 47. 48. _

_But she's still there inside! Her desire is great. _

_49. 50. 51. 52. _

_She just wants someone to be there, and it's you._

_53. 54. 55. 56. _

_But she's getting closer to done, the clocks last ticks._

_57. 58. 59. 60. _

_It's her final wish, a plea-_

_61. 62. 63. 64._

_Elijah where were you before?_

_65. 66. 67. 68. _

_You said you would always be here- no matter the date..._

_69. 70. 71. 72. _

_But now how your lies ring true._

_73. 74. 75. 76. _

_She watches wide-eyed at the pain she inflicts. _

_77. _

_Her mind was hazy, and she couldn't control. But she leaves it to God and prays for a life she does threaten. _

_It's her early attempt to get into Heaven._

**End of Chapter Four.**

**Please leave comments, suggestions, criticisms, etc. It's important that I hear from you to make sure I can still entice you. I want you to be as moved as you were with my other stories, and I'm hoping my writing can get to that level again. **

**With great appreciation for reading, I apologize for the lateness of this chapter. **


	6. Chapter 5

_It's been a while, hasn't it? My apologies. Here's the latest chapter. _

**The Perception**_  
_

**Chapter 5**

The rest was a blur. Her hands were shaking and numb from the force of ink to paper. She felt a woman's hand on her back lightly, and could see a shadow leave the room. Her heart was pounding in her ears.

"Clare," Dr. Westbrook said gently. She pulled Clare's hair from her neck and lightly brushed it over the front of Clare's right shoulder. She instantly felt cooler as the warm skin met contact with the chilled air.

There's a stinging in her eyes that she didn't know was there before. But as Clare brought up a hand to her cheek, it became wet. She opened her mouth and heard a gasp for air.

She hadn't known she was reacting.

After a few struggles to take in a full, calming breath, her voice cracked. "I just want to disappear."

Dr. Westbrook nodded at the girl and with a light touch of her left hand on the girl's back, brought her to the couch. Clare immediately begins to sob harder as she envelopes her chest with stumbling fingers. Her head bows and though she's curling into herself, she feels utterly exposed.

"Clare," begins Dr. Westbrook steadily. "Where do you want to begin?"

Clare covers her mouth with her right hand as her other palm collapses on her chest.

_It's like she's screaming! Fucking screaming! There's this banshee in her head and all she hears is screaming! _

_She puts a hand on her chest, only to feel her heart sink lower like dead bodies in the ocean and she's screaming! She's screaming!_

_There's something dripping on the ground but she doesn't feel it. She touches it and it's neutral. Unfeeling. Why can't she feel it? _

_God, her head is pounding in drum beats of frustration and explosion. Can't anyone hear her? _

_It's so loud in her head. _

Clare catches her breath and pulls down a crawling sleeve. Her eyes are stinging but she's looks right at the woman in front of her. She's pure in an all-white lab jacket and her straight blonde hair has become a bit frizzy from the frenetic energy that's been in this office for-

For how long, Clare wasn't sure.

"Your sister Darcy tried to kill herself once," Dr. Westbrook begins.

Clare nods.

"Why did she do it?"

Clare's eyebrows drop in slight hesitation. But her mouth opens and a broken voice answers, "She was raped."

"Is that why you did it too, Clare?"

_When she wakes up that morning, she knows something's off._

_She scans around the room quickly. The pictures are still there perfectly aligned on the walls. There isn't a single black frame that's out of place. All the flowers in their vases are still fresh, colorful- alive. The grandfather clock in the front hallway chimes seven slow times._

_She reaches for her throat and then works her way down. Blue plaid shirt. Brown braided belt. Blue jeans._

_She gets up and the world spins._

_She hears someone in the kitchen and she slowly makes her way there. Her head is heavy and dull, from what, she's still unsure. She's halfway through the living room when she feels a sharp stab near her temple and suddenly brings two fingers in a pathetic attempt to stop it. _

"No, it wasn't."

Dr. Westbrook pauses knowing that the next question is the most important to ask Clare since her time at the hospital. She focuses on the girl, eyes trained on her face ready to pick up whatever body signals might slip from the girl's self-censorship. "Then why, Clare?"

Clare shoots a hand to the right side of her face, it was like it was stinging. But it wasn't, really. She's just trying not to remember.

_Her head was sticky. Like sweat, but thicker. _

_She brings her fingers down and her eyes attempt to focus on what's fragmented and hardened on her fingers. _

_Red._

**END of Chapter 5. **

**Please review! And check out my other work. **


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